


Bottom Feeder

by LiarFry



Category: Joker (DCU) - Fandom
Genre: F/M, First Meetings, Joker (DCU) Played by Jared Leto, Sexual Tension, The Joker DCU / Reader, Violence/Threatened at Gunpoint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:07:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23367445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiarFry/pseuds/LiarFry
Summary: Gabby Barnes is a journalist for the Gotham Times that's down on her luck. Grasping at straws to avoid being forced into the obituary section of the Times, Gabby is faced with a choice when she finds herself in the middle of a bank robbery perpetrated by the Clow Prince of Crime himself. How far will she go to get the interview of a lifetime?
Relationships: Joker/Reader
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Gabby is a stand-in for the reader in this series, so I won't ever really spend time describing her appearance to make it easier for the audience to see themselves as her. She is a little rough around the edges and does have traits of her own, but who wouldn't be a little rough around the edges when living in Gotham? This is Part 1, more to come!

“What do you mean you’re going with the ‘Croc Guy’ story?” I shouted into the phone, disturbing a few people ahead of me in line at the Gotham Bank. An elderly woman in a fur coat glanced over her shoulder at me in disgust. It took everything I could not to flip her off.

My editor sighed, “It’s Killer Croc, Gabby, and let’s be honest, who wants to hear about some blind psycho who really likes colours?”

“It’s Crazy Quilt and that’s all he can see - you know what it doesn’t matter. Mike, I really need that spot in the Times, I’m on thin ice here.” A man in a dark coat and hat with a long brim brushed past me, perusing the magazine selection near the seating area. I dismissed it, deciding my editor was definitely more worthy of my rage.

“I’m sorry, Gabs, people like that big, scary shock factor when it comes to crime figures. Besides, we still have a spot open for you in the obits.” I could practically hear the sneer through the receiver.

“You know what, Mike? You can just shove -” The man from the sitting area was now striding towards the tellers, as he went by me again, I now realized that his coat was purple, and that the hair peeking out of his hat was definitely green. Movement of figures in black caught my eye and it finally dawned on me. He hadn’t been perusing the magazines, he was waiting until his thugs had gotten into position.

Silver glinted out of the man’s pocket and my heart skipped a beat. Instinctively, I slid my taser out of my purse and into my jacket.

“Hey, Mike, honey?” I said sweetly, attempting to collect myself, “I’ll call you in an hour with something that’ll make Killer Croc read like a fluff piece. Keep that front page warm for me.”

As I ended the call, the man whipped out two silver handguns and began firing into the air. People began screaming, some even tried to run from the building, but men with clown masks stepped in front of the doors wielding machine guns. I lowered my phone and hit record on the camera just in time to catch the Joker’s signature laugh.

“You can’t do this! Who do you think you are?” the woman in the fur coat shouted.

His eyes flashed and he used quick, long strides to arrive in front of her, so he could push the cold barrel of his gun up against her jaw. I tried not to smirk. _Jesus, Gaby, you’re wicked._

He smiled wide, “Not so arrogant now, are we, old bag?”

She whimpered but said nothing. There was a long tense silence where he simply stared at her, and slowly cocked his weapon. Suddenly, a big hand gripped my wrist and twisted it behind me, causing me to drop my phone and yelp.

“Hey, boss!” said a male voice over my shoulder, “This one was trying to get it on tape.”

Without thinking I pulled out my taser and twisted around enough to hit him square in the chest. The goon fell to the ground writhing and I readied myself for the others to strike.

“I’ll handle this, boys. Go get that volt open.” the Joker turned his attention to me and the woman slumped to the floor in relief.

His heels clicked along the marble floor as he strode towards me. I resisted the urge to bolt and settled for taking a few steps back.

“You know, I really do like surprises.” he cooed, then hissed, “When I’m in on them!”

Sliding the gun shaft along my cheek, he snarled, “Why were you recording? And drop that.”

I complied, letting my taser clatter to the floor, “I-I work for the Gotham Times.”

He cackled, “Tell me, what’s it like being a bottom feeder?”

“Speak for yourself.” I almost covered my own mouth in shock but stood my ground.

His eyes glinted and he regarded me from head to toe, “What’s your name, kitten?”

 _Don’t tell the bad guy your name, Gabby,_ “Gabby Barnes.” I practically blurted. _Idiot._

“I suppose you would just die for an interview, wouldn’t you, Miss Barnes?” he eased himself against the wall he had backed me up into. He made sure to place one hand next to my head while stroking the side of my face with the shaft of his gun.

I nodded sharply, not trusting myself to speak. I chose to think that it was because of the stressful situation, not because he oddly smelled good or that a strange sense of euphoria had come over me as my adrenaline spiked from our close proximity.

Abruptly, one of the goons called out to him, “Boss, we got the stuff, we best get out of here before the Bats comes!”

The Joker, seemingly unfazed, pointed his gun away from me in favor of trailing a finger along my cheek and hooking a strand of my hair. He gently brought it to his face and closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. When they opened, his eyes were suddenly focused, almost predatory. My insides churned but I couldn’t look away. He then yanked me closer by my hair and I gasped as his lips grazed mine.

“Boss!”

The criminal blinked back to reality and briskly turned to make his exit, leaving my hair behind.

“But how do I get in touch with you!” I yelled after him.

“Oh, kitten, just put your lips together and blow.” He gave me a once over, bit his lower lip for a long moment, then was gone.

I grabbed a bench to steady myself on. _What have you gotten yourself into now, Barnes?_


	2. Stir Crazy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabby Barnes is a journalist for the Gotham Times who's recently broken the story of a lifetime: a firsthand account of The Clown Prince himself robbing a bank with the promise of a more personal interview to come. But, as the days go by and there's no sign of the Joker, Gabby decides to go to the man himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gabby is a stand-in for the reader in this series, so I won't ever really spend time describing her appearance to make it easier for the audience to see themselves as her. She is a little rough around the edges and does have traits of her own, but who wouldn't be a little rough around the edges when living in Gotham? This is Part 2, more to come!

By the time I got home, Gotham local news had gone utterly insane. Summer Gleeson looked like she was going to pop a blood vessel. Missing out on a chance to record the clown prince of crime in action would make me sour too. My story was bumped to the front page just in time for the evening edition and I had Mike eating his own shorts. I was absolutely smitten, and yes, as smitten as a God damn kitten.

I poured myself a glass of Chianti and saluted Commissioner Gordon who was sounding off about solidarity and the good of the Gotham PD. He was probably forced to answer for yet another robbery by order of the mayor.

“Poor man.” I said, taking a long swig.

“Celebrating, are we?” a gravelly voice boomed.

I swore and dropped my glass of wine, searching through my jacket for my taser.

“I believe you’re looking for this.” a black gloved hand came into view holding a pink taser, my taser.

I let out a sigh of exasperation, “Jesus Christ, I guess you don’t knock do you?”

“No.” Batman stepped out from shadows in my apartment I didn’t know existed.

Sighing again, I stared at my fallen glass and threw my hands up, “First I’m out of a job, then I’m held at gunpoint, and now I have red wine on my new carpet.”

“But you’re not without a job anymore are you?” as he glided forward I noted how tall he was, no wonder most lowlifes squirmed at the very mention of his name, “Word is you’ve scored an interview with the Joker.”

I picked up my glass and threw down a bar cloth, “Word always has some truth to it. What’s it to you? I never took you for a bodyguard type.”

“I want you to be my mole.” 

Scoffing, I stomped on the cloth to soak up more liquid, “Yeah, like he wouldn’t have planned for that already, besides, my place could be bugged by now for all we know.”

“It’s secure, I checked.”

Flashing him a withered look, I picked up the cloth, “I’m not going to even go over how not ok with that I am.”

“I need your help, Barnes, and you need my protection. The last time he took a liking to someone they ended up losing a few screws upstairs.”

“What makes you think I haven’t lost some already?” when he had no reaction I exhaled, “Something tells me you’d spy on me anyway so it may as well happen with my consent, I’m in. That being said, I have some conditions.”

He stayed silent. _Frigid fucker, ain’t he?_

I continued, “I get in contact with you when I have something. None of this sneaking into my apartment after hours. Plus I can’t have you ruining my chances here. Joker is skittish, and needless to say, dangerous, and I’d rather keep all my body parts.”

“Deal. But, I _will_ step in if I deem it necessary.”

“Fine. I’ll leave my window open as a signal. Now then,” I snagged a bottle of spiced rum and poured myself a glass, “think I could swing an interview with you -?”

He was gone.

Downing my glass, I slumped on the couch, _I’m making friends in all the wrong places._

Three weeks passed since I was promised a so-called interview and not a single peep had come from the Joker. Not a car chase, body found, or diamond robbed and I was going stir crazy. The final kicker was that I had completely emptied my minibar while attempting to calm my nerves. Every once in a while, I would wake up in a cold sweat with the remnants of a low whisper, _kitten_ , from the barrel of a gun. After watching my clock strike 12 am I dragged myself out of bed. _I need a goddamn drink._

Once showered, I donned some jeans and a V-neck before braving the streets to flag a cab. Just as I had coaxed one over and was about to climb in, I looked up to see a purple Jaguar hurtle by. There he was, sporting his leather purple jacket, a white dress shirt, and a cane in hand, the Joker.

Immediately, I hopped in the cab and shouted, “Follow that car!”

_It’s time I put my lips together._

Eventually the jag came to a halt outside a bumping nightclub and I cursed. No way was I even near dressed for the occasion. Either way, I paid the driver and got out. _Think, Gabby, think!_ I skirted around to the alley of the building where I saw a faint light. A man in an apron was tossing some trash into a dumpster. When he walked back inside, I was barely able to snag the door with my toe.

I took a deep breath, _the shit I do for a story._ Luckily, there was no one in the back dish pit of the kitchen and I was able to creep my way over to some swinging doors. Looking through, I was almost blinded by the flashing and spinning neon lights. I saw the dance floor first which was bordering on the bar. Female dancers in boxes threw themselves against the glass amongst clusters of bodies, their motions fluid and mesmerizing. There were booths on the far right lined with gold carving and gold beads hung from the ceiling to provide privacy. A hint of green in a sea of red leather seats caught my eye. 

As I began to push through the doors, I was grabbed from behind, “We don’t like snoops in this joint, Sugar.”

“Fine by me.” I grunted and elbowed the goon in the stomach, causing him to double over, tossing me forward through the doors. A couple people shouted as I hit the ground hard and groaned.

I rolled over as the goon was collecting himself, “Com’ere you little-”

“That’s quite enough, Dorko.” that familiar sinister voice sent a chill down my spine.

The Clown Prince of Crime bent over me, tucking some loose hair behind my ear and grinned, “You really like to make an entrance don’t you, _kitten_.”


End file.
